


the price of a free lunch

by ms45



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, thaddaeus campbell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms45/pseuds/ms45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being driven from the High Overseer's offices, the Captain of the City Watch receives a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the price of a free lunch

As the High Overseer gestured Captain Curnow out of the meeting room, leaving the spilled glasses on the table, he became unexpectedly snide. “I’m so sorry for wasting your time, Curnow. It must be at a premium for you – no time for a wife, no children…”

Curnow stiffened, though it did not show in his voice or gait. “The City Watch is a demanding mistress, your lordship,” he replied, praying that the slimy eel wouldn’t press the point. What did the sonovabitch actually know?

Behind them, unseen and unheard, the former Lord Protector slipped out of the meeting room.

* * *

Back in his office, surrounded by a mountain of reports, Curnow rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms behind his back. Sometimes, in moments of weakness, he wished everyone would just drop dead and have done with it. Then he would chastise himself for being a slacker and get back to work.

Picking up his pen and starting on a new pile, he heard a click and a strange noise behind him, like a machine being revved once. He spun around in his seat, and blinked twice to be sure he could believe his eyes.

“Corvo.” Shit. He was going to have to make an arrest. His hand reached for his pistol.

“I saved your life. And I know your secret.”

Curnow went cold, his chest tightening. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you think the High Overseer was so upset about the wine?”

The Captain wasn’t stupid. “You’re hardly the most reliable party to accuse Campbell of threatening me.”

Corvo shrugged. “Quite right. But your niece is surely more reliable?”

“Callista! Where is she?” Curnow snapped, rising from his chair and taking a step towards Corvo.

“She’s safe,” replied Corvo, allowing Curnow to approach. “She begged me to save your life. Besides, in light of what happened to the High Overseer overnight…”

“What? What happened?”

Corvo waved his crossbow ever so casually. “Make sure you get your newspaper in the morning.”

“I always do.” Curnow sighed. “Corvo, I have to arrest you. Even if you really are innocent, I can’t just let Dunwall’s most wanted man waltz into my office and do nothing.”

This time, the crossbow gesture was much less casual. “You would take me on?”

Curnow gazed respectfully at the crossbow (and the sword, and the pistol), but did not flinch. “Yes. It’s my job to uphold the law. I don’t just roll over every time someone’s more heavily armed than I am.”

Corvo looked at the crossbow, smiling almost affectionately, then folded and put it away. He met the Captain’s eyes. “Tyvia.”

Curnow didn’t blink. “Fine wines. Valuable commodities. Not a bad place for a holiday.”

Corvo raised his eyebrows, admiring the Captain’s fortitude. “Beautiful young blonds with tender bodies and strong hands.”

“What the fuck do you want, Corvo?”

“Clarity. Perspective. Facts.”

The captain squeezed his eyes shut. This had been coming for a long time. When he reopened them, his stomach was burning and his voice threatened to tremble, but he folded his arms and kept his spine straight. “Publish and be damned.”

There. He was not excessively concerned with being blackmailed by Dunwall’s most wanted man – surely most reasonable people would see it as a ploy to distract the City Watch from more serious matters – but it hurt. They had been  _friends_.

Corvo held up his hands, dark eyes flashing with amusement. “You misunderstand me entirely. I only want to know if your tastes are restricted to pale Northerners.” He stepped forward, closing the gap between them to nearly nothing.

Regrettably, Curnow was well-informed on the price of a free lunch, regardless of his feelings on dark-eyed Southerners with wasp waists and hair as black as midnight. He held a hand up, pressing his hand to Corvo’s thick black coat. “Your timing is fucking awful, Corvo.”

“All that time, sailing romantically around the Isles, and I never suspected. If I’d known they were going to send us away like alley dogs being stoned by urchins we could have turned our ship into the sunset and sailed away to Pandyssia, and made love in the waves whilst awaiting certain death.”

Curnow could smell Corvo now, oil and sweat and seaweed and  _man_ , and he felt the old sickness rising. “You and the Empress…”

“Pfft. Always I am accused of being Emily’s father. Her mother had dark hair and eyes also.”

As their lips touched, Geoff’s last thought before succumbing was  _the Empress’s eyes were gray_.

**Author's Note:**

> In this version of the story, Corvo has sleep-darted the High Overseer for branding, and the Overseers have chased Curnow out of the office.


End file.
